


The Treasures That We Found

by luninosity



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Elevator Sex, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/pseuds/luninosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So this was indirectly inspired by the Awesome Husband, who, when Aerosmith's "Love In An Elevator" came on the radio, inquired, "how many stories up are they? because that's really not enough time for that." So I started thinking about, well, how a person, namely Erik, might hold an elevator in place. Basically, the story in which they have sex in an elevator, and then someone says I love you for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Treasures That We Found

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [The Treasures That We Found 你我的宝藏](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2448659) by [Glacier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glacier/pseuds/Glacier)



> Title, opening, and closing quotes from "End Over End," by the always appropriate Foo Fighters.

_I take a look around_

_I believe in hand-me-downs_

_the treasures that we found_

_when we were brand new_

 

Another day, another meeting with the CIA. Erik was getting tired of Langley; government officials made him irritable at the best of times, and he was _very_ tired of dealing with stupid people who treated Charles like their shiny new toy.

 

_It’s not THAT bad_ , Charles said in his head, but even his inexhaustible optimism sounded a bit worn out. _They just really don’t understand any of this. No one does, yet._

_You still aren’t their property,_ Erik grumbled. They stood in the wide hallway, ignoring the scurrying of analysts and agents around them, and waiting for the elevator, because neither of them especially felt like walking down multiple flights of stairs at the moment. The elevator, however, ignored their wishes in favor of being interminably slow. Another annoyance.

 

Charles tapped impatient fingers on the wall. “Come on…”

 

A random agent drifted out of the bustling office behind them, and joined in on the waiting. “They’ve never worked right. Once we had someone stuck in this one for three hours.”

 

“Oh, lovely…”

 

“How long’ve you been waiting?”

 

“Ten minutes,” Erik supplied at Charles’s glance.

 

“Then it should be here soon. That’s about average.”

 

Charles sighed. _What do you think we could do, if we end up stuck in an elevator for three hours?_

_I could probably get us out,_ Erik started to say wearily, and then looked sideways at Charles, at his rolled-up sleeves, the loosened tie and the tiny bit of skin showing at his throat. And, suddenly, found himself not as tired as he’d thought.

 

Charles started to smile slowly, looking back at him. _Erik, have you ever…_

_Not YET._

 

The elevator announced its belated arrival, and freed passengers hurried off, thankfully escaping to desks and offices and meetings. Erik watched Charles, and held the door open without touching it. _Shall we?_

 

_Oh yes._ “You know,” Charles said conversationally to the agent, “I think you might’ve left your, er, glasses on your desk. You’ll be wanting those later, I should think.”

 

The man blinked at them, and started patting his pockets. “Where are—I think I’ve left my—you two go on ahead. I’ll get the next one. Whenever it turns up.”

 

“Thank you.” Charles hopped onto the elevator, looking slightly smug. Erik followed, torn between wanting to laugh at Charles’s look-what-I-did! expression and wanting to kiss him until they were both breathless.

 

_I like option two_ , Charles observed, and Erik pushed him up against the back wall and claimed Charles’s laughing mouth with his own. The metal of the elevator, wrapped around them, encasing them, whispered in his blood when his hands brushed the railing.

 

_Well, that’s an interesting idea…_

 

So it was. He was pretty sure he could manage it; he’d lifted bigger objects in the past, though admittedly he hadn’t been trying to do quite as many things at the same time.

 

_Good practice, I suppose, for you_. Charles slipped hands beneath Erik’s shirt, and grinned. “They were complaining about the elevators in any case…”

 

“Just a second, then.” Their elevator was playing a terrible distortion of some classical music at them. The carpet was grey, and the paneled walls were possibly the ugliest walls Erik had seen in his life, and he didn’t care about any of that. He breathed out, concentrated, and got a firm grip on the metal around them. It welcomed his touch happily.

 

Around them, the elevator quivered slightly, and then stopped, secure.

 

“All right, that should—” Charles kissed him again, and he lost the end of the sentence, feeling all that excitement and desire and gleefulness against his lips, in his thoughts, rushing into every sense. _Erik, you’re fantastic!_

_I’m happy you think so…_ Charles had managed to unbutton both their shirts, somehow. Had he missed something?

 

“You were paying attention to the elevator, so I thought I should help with your clothing.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Besides, I thought we might…” The mental image that popped into his head, to complete that sentence, caused a momentary loss of concentration; the elevator quivered ominously. Erik grabbed the metal handrail with both hands and held on.

 

_Sorry!_

_No, just warn me if you’re going to do that. Or… that._

 

Charles looked up from what he was doing, and observed, “I think we need something more…slippery in order to do _that_. Do we have any, ah…”

 

“I think there’s some in my pocket.”

 

“Really?” Charles slid a hand into Erik’s pocket for the bottle; the heat of his hand ran across Erik’s thigh and all the way up his body. _Do you just constantly think about having sex with me, then, wherever we go?_

 

“Not _constantly_. I have other thoughts. Sometimes.” _I’m sorry that I find you irresistibly attractive, Charles_.

 

“Well, if it helps, I was thinking about the conference table in that meeting room, myself.” _Irresistibly, hmm? I do like that. I find you quite irresistible, as well._

 

“Next time.” He was thinking about Charles stretched out across the glossy smooth surface of the conference table now. It was a very good thought. Perhaps they could sneak back into the building after hours.

 

The elevator trembled. “Sorry.”

 

“Please don’t drop us. It would be terribly disruptive, and I have plans for you.” Charles had managed to unfasten Erik’s pants one-handed, which was actually quite impressive. His other hand was occupied, and Erik needed a second to remember how to form words.

 

“I won’t. Can I help with that?”

 

“Mmm…belt buckle? Mine; I’ve done yours.”

 

“Got it.” It hit the carpeted floor with a dull clink. Charles grinned, dropped to his knees, and did something that made Erik inadvertently bend the handrail.

 

_Try not to break the government property; we do have to give this elevator back eventually._

_Are you certain we can’t keep it?_

_I think even the CIA might notice a missing elevator at SOME point, Erik._

 

The aforementioned elevator swayed as if in the grip of very strong, very excited, winds. Charles looked up. _Sorry, should I stop distracting you?_

_You should come up here and kiss me_. Charles on the floor, despite the distractions he was offering, was too far away, and Erik wanted to touch him, wanted to run fingers through his hair and across his smooth skin.

 

“Well, I’m not going to argue with that…” Charles started to get to his feet, and Erik let the elevator wobble, just a little bit, so that Charles ended up off balance and pressed up against him.

 

_Sneaky of you._

_Not apologizing_. The inviting skin of Charles’s throat tasted like the silk of his shirt and the prickle of sweat and leftover sweetness from the sugared pineapple he’d been eating earlier, and Erik ran a hand along the line of his back and thought, in what little space he had left for coherent thought, about how lucky he was.

 

_We both are._

 

Erik dropped his head against Charles’s shoulder, just for a second, hiding the expression that Charles could probably see in his mind anyway. And Charles kissed his ear, gently. _You have lovely ears, have I ever told you that?_

_No…_ Somehow Charles had found the most random, and most exactly right, thing to say. Erik kissed him again for that.

 

“Well, you do,” Charles observed, and then slid fingers into an interesting place. Erik blinked. Not their usual positions, apparently.

 

“Wait, why do you get to—”

 

“Well, you’re preoccupied. Holding an elevator and all. Is that all right?”

 

“I’m not complaining.” They fit together, as always, as if they’d been made for each other. As if nothing in the world could ever come between them. The overhead lights made yellow stripes in Charles’s hair and painted highlights across his smile. Erik’s fingers put dents in the metal handrail, and the walls creaked at them as if they approved.

 

_Oh! Erik, the security cameras—_

_Already taken care of._

_Have I mentioned that I love you?_

 

The entire elevator shivered with Erik’s surprise, not at the joke, but at the honesty beneath it. He curled both hands around the poor abused handrail and steadied the metal box around them, carefully. _Did you just tell me that you love me, for the first time, while we’re having sex, in an elevator, in the middle of Langley?_

_Well, it’s as true here as it is anywhere else!_ Charles was grinning, a little embarrassedly, but utterly unashamed. _We could pretend I didn’t, and I could tell you again later, if you’d like, over dinner, with champagne and candles—_

_Absolutely not!_ Erik pulled one hand away from the rail, tangled fingers in Charles’s hair, and yanked him in for the best kiss of their lives. When he let go, Charles’s eyes sparkled pure blue joyousness back at him. _This is perfect. You’re perfect. I love you, too._

 

_Oh—perfect!_

 

It was. It spilled over both of them with intoxicating surety. Charles moved against him, with him, sensation blurring into dizzying emotion, and added cheerfully, “I thought you might feel that way, actually—”

 

How could Charles still _talk?_ Erik could barely stand up. Between the fireworks of emotion billowing through their shared thoughts, the physical sparks that shivered through both of them every time they moved, and the demanding hum of the elevator in the background, he was surprised he hadn’t forgotten how to form words altogether. Complete sentences were as difficult as…very difficult things.

 

“What, ah…what would give you that impression?”

 

“Oh, maybe this—”

 

 “ _Definitely_ that—”

 

Suddenly losing the ability to focus, Erik dropped the elevator. In freefall, laughing, they came together. The world held its breath; Charles looked at him with unhesitating trust and delight and love, and Erik kissed him again with the song of metal in their ears and thought _I love you_ as the moment exploded around them.

 

He caught the elevator in between the first and second sub-basements, and held them there, suspended calmly in limbo. The horrible classical music still played down at them from the ceiling, and the air clung damply to skin, warm and sticky. Erik leaned against the handrail, which was never going to be the same again, and enjoyed the weight of Charles resting against him. Elevators, he decided, were amazing.

 

_They are a wonderful invention, don’t you think?_ Charles was smiling; Erik couldn’t quite see his face from their current positions, but he could feel the smile regardless. _You know, there are elevators back at the mansion…_

_How many?_

_I’m actually not quite sure. It’s a very big house, and my stepfather was a very eccentric man_. Charles tipped his head up to look at Erik; hair fell into his eyes. Erik wanted to push it to the side, but that would mean moving his hands away from the warmth of Charles’s skin. It was a terrible dilemma.

 

Charles laughed, and shook his head slightly, which didn’t help at all but sent little curls of hair tickling along Erik’s face. He tightened his hold on Charles in response, and Charles raised an eyebrow.

 

“You can’t _possibly_ be interested in doing that again already…” _Actually, I’m surprised you aren’t exhausted. Aren’t elevators heavy?_

 

Now that he thought about it, yes. They were. “Going up, then.” _And we’re going to have to find every elusive elevator in your home, you are aware._

 

“Then we should probably get dressed. Are those my pants, or yours?” _I certainly approve of your plan, but it’s our home, Erik. Not mine; mine and yours._

 

“Those definitely belong to a tiny person, so they are your pants.” _Did you mean that?_ He couldn’t help asking, even though he could feel the uncomplicated generosity, the sincerity, in Charles’s voice, in every thought, like a promise. Like love. Like the immediacy of Charles’s answering _Of course_ , with a mental touch like a kiss.

 

Home. What a strange concept. He tested it out in his own thoughts. Home, with Charles. Yes, he could do that.

 

_I’m glad_ , Charles murmured, and paused to smile at him, under the glow of the lights and the tinny noises of the elevator music. Erik smiled back, and thought, again, _I love you._

_I love you, too_. “Also, I am a perfectly normal size for a person.” Charles finished with his pants, and started looking for his belt. “You’re just large.”

 

“It’s over here. And thank you for that.”

 

“I didn’t mean _that_! Oh…well, I suppose I did mean that, too.” Charles ran a hand through his hair, shrugged, and clearly gave up trying to make it presentable. Secretly, Erik was happy about this. He liked seeing Charles disheveled and flushed and beautiful.

 

“I heard that. Fifth floor?”

 

“You heard nothing. I thought there might be fewer people up here. I don’t imagine the CIA would enjoy us opening these elevator doors in the lobby.”

 

“Impeccable reasoning.” The elevator made a cheerful _ding_ of arrival; the doors opened to reveal a nondescript hallway, and quiet grey office walls. Erik looked back at the inside of their elevator, and felt a little guilty about the contrasting disaster, all bent railings and slightly drunken walls and rumpled carpet where it had come loose from the base. But only a little.

 

Charles hopped off the elevator. “Aren’t you coming?”

 

“I thought we already did that.” Erik followed, to the sound of Charles’s laughter. “I think the stairs are to the right.”

 

“Oh, stairs…somehow they seem so pedestrian now, don’t they?”

 

“Isn’t that the point of stairs?”

 

Charles made an expression that wanted to be an annoyed glare and wasn’t. “Oh, you know what I meant…”

 

They started down. Five stories worth of steps awaited them below. Erik was, actually, a bit tired, but he refused to admit it. Besides, the experience had been completely worth it.

 

“I know what you meant, yes.” And then, one more time, just because he could and because he wanted to hear it out loud, said under the artificial lights and clanking metal staircases, he added, “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too,” Charles said promptly, understanding, and the words echoed through the stairwell, bounced off of aging wrought iron and dingy whitewashed walls, and filled the air around them.

 

On the fifth floor of the back staircase of the headquarters of the CIA, in the middle of the afternoon, surrounded by security cameras and motes of dust and the odd spider watching from beneath the stairs, Charles smiled at him, and Erik thought about home.

 

_now that we’re old and worn_

_a little ripped and torn_

_one day we’ll be reborn_

_one day I’ll meet you right back here_

_once again  
_


End file.
